


Pardon?

by bimmykimmy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Not Beta Read, Random & Short, Twitter Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bimmykimmy/pseuds/bimmykimmy
Summary: Akaashi has the word, and I quote, "Flatulence?" on his arm, which are supposedly the first words his fated partner will say to him.Ugh.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 149





	Pardon?

**Author's Note:**

> This was a twitter fic I wrote a while back. Lately I've desperately searched for bokuaka fics but a lot of them are super angst. Which IS FINE. But I just want silliness for a while.
> 
> I hastily proofread and edited a few things. So please forgive the mistakes and short word count.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

"Well, punctuation is quite rare," the doctor says hesitantly as if trying to sooth the woes of a mother. This mother in question folds her arms across her chest and looks at her son, barely 9 years old, and sighs.

"He's already so sensitive," she says quietly, turning away from Akaashi who stares at his own arm in wonder. His small fingers trace the black letters and question mark poignantly at the end of the word. "Once he finds out the meaning of this word he's not going to be happy."

The doctor does his best to ease her worries.

it doesn't help much,

Because as soon as Akaashi Keiji learns the meaning of _flatulence_ he decides then and there that he never, ever, _ever_ wants to meet his so called 'fated person.'

\--

Years pass and Akaashi all but forgets about the dreaded word etched onto his skin. Well, that's a bit of an overstatement. He can't forget it, not to save his life. But he definitely lets go of the idea of finding one's other half based on some archaic system of first spoken words. And so, Akaashi grows up. And one evening during his senior year of college, a close friend drags him along to this weird... sex seminar. (He wouldn't really ever be caught dead at something like this, but goes anyway to support her since she’s a public health major).

He sits in the corner of the main lecture room, mostly ignoring the oddly detailed, though positive, speeches. For the most part, the event doesn't seem like anything he can't handle. Sure sex talk doesn't necessarily hit home for him for multiple reasons, but he's adult enough to bear it. He knew what he was signing up for.

What he did _not_ sign up for, however, was the weird ice breaker they do afterward the speeches finish. The cute MC on the stage, with their big round glasses, smiles proudly of their ingenious idea to get all participants up and moving and chatting.

It goes like this:

Everyone is given a sexual term, mostly scientifically inclined rather than slang, and they must get the person to guess it before they can talk and mingle like normal humans.

Akaashi has no idea what this “game” is even supposed to achieve, but he begrudgingly accepts his slip of paper and stands up silently. He wastes time and paces around the room avoiding eye contact as much as possible. To other attendees merit, a few try to break the ice with him, only for the conversation to fumble and stop when Akaashi just looks down at his paper and becomes cotton mouthed and red-eared.

Not too long after, Akaashi notices less and less people walking around. Everyone seems to find “mingling partners” rather quickly, and he slowly starts feeling more and more awkward. He’s bad enough at starting up normal small talk. Having to describe the word on his slip of paper to a complete stranger is _way_ out of his range of capabilities.

Just when he’s about to give up, he glances down at his feet, walking steadily toward the back doors of the lecture room. Before long, however, he bumps into what feels like a brick wall. When he looks up, it isn't a brick wall at all; rather its a pair of broad shoulders. The guy turns around sharply, pinning Akaashi with stunning gold eyes.

Then...

They just sort of stare at each other for a moment.

Then some more.

And some more.

The golden eyed guy puckers his lips and glances down at his own slip of paper but continues to say nothing. He looks just about as uncomfortable as Akaashi feels, which is some small comfort he supposes.

Akaashi glances listlessly over at the MC and other event coordinators. They look like they're ready to wrap things up. The timer on the projected screen is almost up anyways, so they won’t have to talk for long. Akaashi figures they can stumble through a conversation just long enough to be able to go home with a pat on the back for being social!

He sighs a bit before glancing at his own paper and monotonally says, “The act of stimulating a penis with one’s mouth for sexual pleasure.”

The series of expressions that morph through the golden eyed man remind Akaashi of something pliable, like silly putty, and soon enough the guy brings his fists to his spiked dual toned hair. He puckers his lips again before squinting one eye and tilting his head. He hums good and long once more before finally blurting, “Flatulence?”

Like a nail gun to the chest, Akaashi’s breath leaves him and he feels the floor drop beneath his feet. His eyes widen. He finds that words escape him, and his inner bicep burns like it’s being etched anew.

The expressive man’s eyes go wide as well and he slaps a hand over his forehead. “Oh my God no. That means fart!!” His cheeks bloom a slight pink in embarrassment and he crosses his arms, leaning over a bit to the side. “What is it? It sounds, like, Italian or something.” His golden gaze darts back to the frozen Akaashi, who startles a bit at the attention. The expressive guy lifts a hand, palm up, and curls his fingers rapidly in a beckoning motion. “Help me out here. Ffffflaa—no. That’s fart again.”

“It’s,” Akaashi blurts louder than necessary. He catches himself though and fixes his volume before continuing. “It’s fellatio.”

The golden boy freezes now, mouth parting in a soft gasp.

Akaashi's brain doesn't feel normal anymore; like there's sparklers going off somewhere inside of there. Which, he’s no biology major, but that doesn’t seem entirely healthy.

The guy suddenly snaps his fingers and the proceeds to shake a pointer finger at Akaashi with so much vigor it causes some people around them to glance over. Akaashi’s face instantly warms and he steps closer, automatically shushing the loud guy as if it were the most natural thing to do despite being strangers. He slaps the guy's hand down, pushing his accusatory finger away.

“Hold the phone!!!!” He bounces on the balls of his feet, fists tightening triumphantly. “Dude, look!”

Suddenly, to Akaashi’s wide eyed dismay, he lifts his entire shirt up and turns to the side.

The black words are etched onto the side of his torso, curving up and around his rib cage toward his back.

“I’m such an _idiot_! Of course I’d meet you at an event like this!! I wasn’t gonna come, but my boy Kuroo has this mega crush on this cool gamer bro who's also here but hasn’t said a word to him yet in lecture but he kinda feels like they might have a spark? and he’s anxious.” His eyes shine like the sun, and anyone would be a fool not to want to stare into them, but Akaashi can’t stop looking at those words.

Sure enough, the apt definition he’d given of the basic sexual act is scrawled along this guy’s pale, incredibly toned body.

Akaashi feels his breath leave him again. He’s dreaded this moment for years. He never wanted to meet the person who’s first word to him is...

But this guy. He’s, he’s...

“Bokuto Koutarou,” he grins widely and drops his shirt again. “I guess I should’ve realized it sooner, but in my defense I was _trying_ to do a good job and play along with the game. Can't say I'm too well versed in sexual vocabulary though. I get words wrong a lot. Oh! And you are?”

“Akaashi Keiji,” he finds himself saying before he can surmise a reason not to. He shouldn't though. Right? Because why should he...want to introduce himself to this guy?

Bokuto smiles so wide it squints his big, bright eyes. He then plants his hands squarely on his hips, puffing his chest proudly. “So! Do you...?” The question lingers silently, unspoken. Akaashi doesn't want him to ask it, but he replies anyway.

“On my bicep. Yes.”

Bokuto’s smile turns a bit sheepish; posture wilting a little. “Sorry you have the word for fart written on your arm.”

Akaashi pauses a moment, mind still reeling while coming to terms with exactly what’s happening. Is this for real? “I’m sorry you have the definition for fellatio on your torso,” he says.

Bokuto inflates again, standing tall and barking out a laugh that turns heads again.

Before either of them can say another word though, the loud timer goes off and one of the MCs asks everyone to finish up.

Akaashi looks up toward the stage for a moment before glancing back at those wild gold eyes that don’t seem to want to leave his. And for some reason...it isn't unsettling. It's strange, sure, but not uncomfortable. Those golden gems staring back at him feel almost familiar; like a lost dream, a hazy deja vu. A sense of comfort besides all logic telling him otherwise.

“Hey uh,” Bokuto says after a moment while the crowd disperses around them. “I know it’s a bit sudden and...well, old fashioned and like plenty of peeps don’t even care about their words, but uhh—would you wanna maybe get coffee sometime?” His face is absolutely pink now, a nervous hand rubs the back of his neck.

There's another moment's pause between the two of them. And Bokuto seems to start fidgeting the longer Akaashi waits to respond.

“I...suppose coffee could be nice,” Akaashi finally says because hell, why not? 13 years ago the word flatulence appeared on his skin. For 13 years he’s cursed whoever would say this unromantic, off-putting word to him. He spent 13 years wondering what sort of moron says something as asinine as this upon first meeting someone.

And those 13 years were wiped away almost instantly when those passionate gold eyes warmed him with their bright gaze and wild humor.

“Sweet!” Bokuto says, and he is not subtle about the fist pump of excitement he makes.

First words aren’t all that important anyways.


End file.
